


Heart of a Wolf

by Kennel_Boy



Category: Elfquest
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kennel_Boy/pseuds/Kennel_Boy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timmain has lost more than one mate to the World of Two Moons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart of a Wolf

The winds shrieking off of the distant ice wall cut through fur as keenly as the sharpest tooth. In this dark, desperate heart of winter, the cold was deep enough that breath steamed out over bared fangs as frozen vapor and blood turned to red ice where it fell.

The wolf pack ringed the two fighters, pressing flank to flank and shoulder to shoulder for warmth. They were northern stock, massive, heavy-boned predators built to endure the cold. All of the pack were lean beneath their thick winter coats. They watched the fight with unnatural intensity, some even whining eagerly underbreath at each blood-letting snap and slash. The combatant who won would leave at the head of the pack. The loser would depart in the belly of his packmates, a gory pragmatism that went against every instinct of pack and family, but in this cruel world, hunger's rule was strong.

A white female, as rawboned and tuck-bellied as any of her companions, stood slightly apart from the pack and all but invisible in the storm. Her ears were flat and her tail swept up against her belly between her legs, belying her position as alpha female. Her own soft whimpers were born of distress.

The larger of the two fighters had stood as her mate for many long seasons, but now his cinnamon coat was grizzled with silver, his limbs stiff while she retained the limber stamina of youth. That he should fall and be replaced by a younger leader was natural. The wild heart in her knew this, but there was another part of her, a part that had once answered to a name. This un-wolfishness within her held the faint memories of an earlier fall, helplessness, and the shattering grief as she'd witnessed the slaughter of another mate. It intruded into the simple timelessness of her mind and prompted her to pull away from brutality, even as it refused to simply let her flee it.

Strong jaws closed heavily on one shaggy foreleg. Bones made brittle with years and cold shattered like ice. A yelp of pain rose above the winds.

The old male, already bleeding from many lesser wounds, staggered on his mangled leg. The pack closed in.

A blur of white cleared the ring of eager bodies, landing in the center of them all with a snarl tearing its way free of her throat.

The wolves scattered briefly, startled by this deviation. The challenger, grey and white, deep-chested and just into his fourth winter, stared at the interloper, an uneasy confusion in his stance. It was not in him to attack the one that every instinct told him was now his mate by right, and yet she offered him fresh combat. The boldness that had prompted the challenge to start sent him a step forward.

The female's answering lunge closed the distance between them, her jaws snapping shut a hair's breadth from his throat.

The challenger retreated and finally turned away. The pack milled uneasily around their new alpha for several moments, then followed him into the deeper shadows of the wood, leaving the unnatural female and the crippled elder behind in the bloody snow.

Long minutes passed before the female dropped her guard to lie in the snow beside her mate, the un-wolf part of her mourning the conflict resolved too late. There were to be no last hunts. No hope of spring. Only a bloody grey muzzle lain on a pristine flank as the ring of warm scarlet around them deepened.

It was hours later that the white female lifted her head. The red ice binding her to the dead wolf crackled faintly, then splintered as she rose to her feet. The un-wolf in her wrapped itself in grey forgetfulness and retreated deep within. She stood over the remains of her mate for a few moments, the dying winds toying with her fur as if they would blow her away like so much snow.

The white wolf turned and loped away in the direction opposite her pack.

**Author's Note:**

> Just the result of musing on some of the quieter tragedies of Timmain's sacrifice. Written in 2006, brushed up slightly for reposting.


End file.
